


The Party

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Series: The Rising Storm [4]
Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Multiple Doctors - Freeform, Parties, Wibbly-wobbly timey wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry pulled out a small wallet and flipped it open, revealing a small slip of psychic paper. It revealed what appeared to be an invitation, addressed to ‘The Doctor, all regenerations,’ for a party taking place at a particular set of space-time co-ordinates.</p><p>“Are you sure that you’re invited?” Hermione asked shrewdly.</p><p>“Well, technically speaking, I <i>am</i> an incarnation of the Doctor,” Harry said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Party

**Author's Note:**

> And here we have the idea that originally inspired 'Eye of the Storm!' I have no idea how good/not good my characterisations are, but hopefully they're adequate.

**The Party**

It was a warm, summery day in July 1997, and there was a girl standing in the park. She was tall, with thick, chestnut-brown hair, and looked to be aged around seventeen or eighteen. She was wearing a rather nice dress, in a fetching shade of blue. She stood alone, and didn’t appear to be doing anything in particular; she looked as though she were waiting for something, or perhaps someone.

There was no one around to observe as a peculiar, grating sound started up, growing louder and louder, and a patch of empty air began to shimmer and turn blue. The blue shimmer solidified, and a moment later a large, boxy blue shape saying _Police Public Call Box_ was sitting in the middle of the park, only a few feet away from the young woman.

One of the double-doors opened, and out stepped a young man who appeared to be only a few years older than the young woman. He was wearing a neat black suit, complete with waistcoat, as well as a smart black fedora and an emerald cravat that matched his bright, rather piercing green eyes. He was handsome, with a mischievous look in his eyes and a faintly rakish air: overall, he looked like trouble, but an exceptionally well-dressed and charming kind of trouble.

Harry adjusted his hat to a slightly more jaunty angle atop his head and grinned at Hermione.

“Well, don’t _you_ look ravishing,” he said appreciatively. Hermione looked lovely, the shade of blue she was wearing bringing out the delicate shade of her skin and the bright colour of her eyes.

“Oh, shut up, Doctor,” Hermione admonished, although she blushed a little, “and explain why you sent me a text telling me to dress up and meet you here.”

“I believe my exact words were ‘be there or be square,’” Harry said idly, grinning at his friend. “And the reason, my dear Hermione, is that we are going to a party!”

“A party,” Hermione repeated skeptically. “ _Not_ an adventure?” She had travelled with Harry several times before, and knew how what Harry _swore_ were going to be perfectly innocent trips usually ended.

“Well, it’s probably both,” Harry said thoughtfully, still grinning, “knowing the other guests.”

“And who are these other guests?” Hermione inquired, following Harry into the TARDIS.

Harry bounced with his enthusiasm as he fiddled with the console controls.

“My grandfather,” he said excitedly, “at least three of him.”

“ _Three_ of him?” Hermione echoed. Just because she was used to Harry’s incomprehensible remarks didn’t mean that she had any idea what they meant.

“There might have been more, but I think somebody spiked the punch,” Harry explained. “The memories I inherited are a bit wibbly where the party’s concerned. It definitely happened, though, and several of him had a good time, I remember that much. But first,” Harry flipped a lever, and the TARDIS began to de-materialize, “we need to make a stop.”

“Why?” Hermione asked. “Where are we going first?”

“A hat shop,” Harry replied.

Hermione blinked.

“A hat shop?”

“Trust me,” Harry said cryptically, “it’s an emergency.”

“So we’re making an emergency stop at a hat store. Alright,” said Hermione, sounding resigned to Harry’s madness. “But how do you know about this party, if your memories about it are ‘wibbly,’ as you said?”

In response Harry pulled out a small wallet and flipped it open, revealing a small slip of psychic paper. It revealed what appeared to be an invitation, addressed to ‘The Doctor, all regenerations,’ for a party taking place at a particular set of space-time co-ordinates.

“Are you sure that you’re invited?” Hermione asked shrewdly.

“Well, technically speaking, I _am_ an incarnation of the Doctor,” Harry said, as the TARDIS finished materializing. “I’m just not the original one. Now come on, we need to look at outlandish hats, and find one that isn’t too terrible.”

“But why?” Hermione demanded. Harry only grinned.

“You’ll see,” he said, infuriatingly enigmatic. A younger Hermione would have hit him in the arm and insisted on being told what was going on: being both older and wiser, and more importantly more familiar with Harry’s quirks, Hermione only rolled her eyes and said, “I’d better, Harry Potter.”

Harry just laughed, and headed for the TARDIS doors. Smiling a little herself, Hermione followed.

* * *

An hour later (relatively speaking) found the TARDIS parked outside a large community hall-for-hire. Harry was out the door and gone before Hermione could catch up.

As Harry walked up the path towards the hall’s front door, he could hear voices. As he approached, he saw that standing just outside the hall were the Converse-wearing Doctor with great hair, River Song, and the dark-haired tweed-wearing Doctor. They appeared to all be arguing over the Tweed Doctor’s hat.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Harry asked, coming up behind the small group. As one, they turned to include Harry in the conversation, with the air of people glad to have someone else to convert to their side of the argument.

“It’s a fez,” Tweed Doctor proclaimed. “Fezzes are cool.”

“No, they’re really not,” Harry disagreed. Tweed Doctor looked unconvinced. Harry folded his arms. “You know what it makes you look like? One of those creepy wind-up monkeys that clash cymbals together.”

Tweed Doctor’s face fell. River looked vindicated, while Converse just looked amused.

“I’ve been trying to tell him that for years,” River Song told Harry, who only smiled.

“Here,” said Harry, “try this instead.” He passed Tweed Doctor one of the bags he was holding. Looking curious, Tweed opened the bag, and his face brightened in delight. He pulled out the piece of headgear that Harry had purchased for him.

“A pith helmet!” he exclaimed. River seized the opportunity to snatch the fez off his head. Tweed Doctor didn’t protest, settling the pith helmet on instead. He looked, Harry thought, rather like an eccentric early twentieth-century archaeologist.

“Well, that’s a _bit_ better, I suppose,” Converse Doctor said mildly, and a little doubtfully.

“So, who are you?” River asked Harry. “Which one of this lot did you come with?”

Harry only gave her what he knew to be a dashing grin.

“I’m the Doctor,” he informed her, and smirked as the others stared at him.

“You’re never,” Tweed Doctor said.

“You’re so _young_ ,” said River, her eyebrows raised.

“DOCTOR!” someone shouted, and all three Doctors turned their heads to see Hermione striding towards them. Harry grinned, and bowed over her hand as she approached.

“Hermione, meet the Doctors and River Song,” he introduced.

“So that’s what the pith helmet was for,” Hermione observed, eying Tweed Doctor with disapprobation.

“You should have seen what he was wearing before,” Harry told her. “Oi, Eleven, take the hat off for a minute.”

Tweed Doctor did so reluctantly.

“River?” Harry asked expectantly. Just as reluctantly as Tweed Doctor, River handed Harry the fez she’d tucked under one arm. Harry dropped it on Tweed’s head.

“That _is_ awful,” Hermione marvelled.

“Told you it was an emergency,” Harry said loftily. He passed the fez back to River, and Tweed put his pith helmet back on.

Harry turned to Converse, who was looking generally bemused.

“Are you the one hosting this?”

“Yep, that’s me,” Converse agreed.

“In that case, I got you something too,” Harry said, and passed the other bag to Converse. “Magically-animated chocolate frogs.”

“Really?” Converse exclaimed, sounding fascinated, while Hermione rolled her eyes. Converse examined one of the colourful boxes the chocolate frogs came in. “Oh, you shouldn’t have!” He looked delighted.

“Well, I figured it was only polite, since you’re the one considerate enough to hold this party,” Harry grinned, taking Hermione’s arm as the group walked into the hall.

 River and Tweed drifted away to talk to some of the other people present – there were a number of companions present who Tweed wouldn’t have seen in centuries – and Harry leaned slightly closer to Converse.

“By the way, if Hermione and I wake up tomorrow with strange gaps in our memories, I’m hunting you down.”

“Right,” Converse responded, looking understanding. “Make sure you avoid the punch.” He hesitated, and then asked, “If you don’t mind, which regeneration are you, exactly?”

Harry just smiled at him, with a mix of apology and mirth in his eyes.

“Spoilers,” he told Converse, with a wink. Converse looked startled – it wasn’t until Tweed’s time that ‘spoilers’ became a running joke, after all – and Harry steered Hermione away towards an innocuous-looking clump of people.

“You’re not going to tell him the truth?” Hermione asked in a low voice.

“Nope,” Harry replied. “Also, avoid the punch.”

“I heard,” Hermione said dryly. She hesitated, looking around at all the people surrounding her. “Did he really travel with all these people?”

Harry snorted.

“Oh yes, and a lot more than this. Well over a thousand years old, you know, and most companions only stay for a couple of years before they settle down, or well…” Harry’s words trailed off, as he remembered some of the unfortunate fates that had awaited the previous Doctor’s companions. “Things happen.”

“Bad things, I’m guessing,” Hermione said softly, reading the pain in Harry’s eyes, and the things he wasn’t saying.

“Sadly, yes.” Harry looked around at the many companions present. He knew all of them, and yet, technically, he’d never met any of them. “It’s funny; all these people I’ve never met, and yet I know them all, up here.” He tapped his temple.

Hermione was quiet for a moment.

“He must have lost so many people,” she murmured. Harry shrugged.

“That’s what it’s like, being a Time Lord surrounded by humans. You age, and you wither, and I – don’t.” Harry was always careful about how often he visited Hermione, only dropping by infrequently: for every year Hermione aged, Harry stayed away for ten or so. This way he maintained the illusion that they were aging at the same rate. Harry had never mentioned his strategy to Hermione, but he was reasonably sure she’d worked it out. But Hermione was his oldest, dearest friend, and Harry wanted her in his life for as long as possible.

Hermione took his hand, and squeezed it in wordless comfort. Harry squeezed back, grateful for her presence. For all that he’d loved and lost a number of companions over the last century, he’d never been as close to any of them as he had Hermione. He supposed that part of it was the fact that she knew him for who he truly was, not just the myth of the Doctor that Harry carefully maintained.

“Who do you want to talk to first?” Hermione asked, looking around again at the room of companions. Harry looked around as well, taking in the familiar faces.

“I feel a little like an imposter,” he remarked. “Ooh, there’s a face that takes me back!” He promptly shot across the room to where a young woman with short hair and an outfit straight out of the 80s was standing, holding a glass of punch. Next to her was an unassuming-looking blonde man in an old-fashioned cricket outfit.

“Tegan!” Harry exclaimed, beaming. “Oh, it’s good to see you!”

Tegan looked startled and uncertain, but Harry was already turning to the Doctor beside her.

“And you!” he enthused. “I _remember_ being you!”

“Ah,” said Cricketer Doctor. “I see. One of my future incarnations, I suppose?”

“Something like that,” Harry agreed cheerfully. “Are you both enjoying the party?”

“It’s quieter than most places we visit, I’ll give you that,” Tegan said, a little darkly. Cricketer looked faintly pained.

“Splendid,” said Harry, beaming at them. “Oh, and good luck getting home, Tegan; you’re going to need it.”

Tegan glared at her Doctor, who looked uncomfortable, but Harry was already off again, talking to other companions and Doctors.

There was movement by the door, and Harry glanced over to see a man with short curly hair and a long green coat walk into the hall, his expression tired. He stared around, as though he hadn’t seen such a cheerful sight for a long time. Harry recognised him: it was the Doctor’s eighth regeneration, and from just before he started fighting in the Time War, if Harry had any guess.

Harry walked over to him, and the other Doctor looked at him quickly. Eight’s eyes were unutterably weary, and sad.

“Welcome to the party,” Harry told him, deliberately pitching his voice to sound cheerful and upbeat. “We’re all mad here.” He sketched a short bow, grinning.

Eight stared at him, before the ghost of a smile touched his lips.

“Come on,” said Harry, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Have something to eat, grab a glass of punch, talk to some old friends, okay?”

“Yes,” said Eight, after a moment. “I think I should like that.”

Harry left him talking to a young Sarah Jane, and returned to Hermione, who was delicately eating a pastry of some kind.

“Having fun?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” Harry replied, grabbing his own pastry. “Boy, does this take me back.” One of the catering staff walked past at that moment, and Harry blinked. The man looked vaguely familiar. Harry stared for a moment, frowning, then shook his head, and ate his pastry. It was delicious.

“So how about you?” Harry asked. “Have you actually spoken to anyone else, yet?”

Hermione shook her head.

“Not yet.”

“Oh, go on,” Harry encouraged her. “Find someone and get them talking. Most of these people have been on interesting adventures of their own, you know. I’m sure there’s a fascinating tale or two they could tell.” Harry looked around, until he spotted Nyssa. “ _That_ is Nyssa. She knows a thing or two about science, if you want to have a chat, or simply learn more about another alien culture.”

“She’s an alien?” Hermione asked in surprise. “But she looks so... human.”

“Time Lord,” Harry corrected her. “We’re the base model, actually, morphic resonance at work – once something like us evolved, the likelihood of something similar evolving was increased. The result: endless numbers of species around the universe who look more or less like a Time Lord. Humans, for example.” Harry gestured at the room around him. “You might think of people who look like this as human, but trust me, the body plan arose in Time Lords first.”

“Does it really matter?” asked Hermione.

“Of course it matters!” Harry exclaimed. “If you compare every species you meet to a human, you start thinking that humans are the baseline of what is normal and correct, and judging other species accordingly.”

Hermione gave him a look.

“And the Time Lords never did that, did they?”

“I never said my people were perfect, just more advanced,” Harry told her. “Besides, what do you expect, with a name like the Time Lords? We consider ourselves the Lords of Time, of course we’re judgemental of everyone else. It’s not everyone who can be a Lord of Time, is it?”

“I’m going to go talk to someone else, before you start making grandiose claims of Time Lord superiority,” said Hermione.

“Probably wise,” Harry admitted. He helped himself to another pastry as Hermione was absorbed into the crowd.

It was difficult to feel the previous Doctor’s mind – having so many of him in the same place messed with Harry’s telepathic perception, so that Harry could barely detect the presence of the previous Doctor’s mind at all – but one of the minds present was both familiar and more detectable, and decidedly _not_ the Doctor’s. Stifling a grin, Harry let his eyes wander towards the vaguely familiar member of the catering staff, and wondered which Doctor the man had been stalking.

The earlier regenerations of the previous Doctor probably hadn’t even noticed his presence, among the telepathic ‘noise’ of having all of Gallifrey inside their heads, along with the interference of being the same person in the same place and time several times over, and the later Doctors probably felt too sentimental about the interloper to say anything. Which just left Harry.

Getting a cup of punch, Harry wandered over to the man in the black caterer’s uniform, and offered him the plastic cup.

“Punch?” he offered. The Master gave him a look.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m offering you a drink,” Harry explained helpfully. “You looked thirsty, over here all by yourself. Nice disguise, by the way. Very inconspicuous.”

The Master grudgingly accepted the cup of punch.

“You’re not the Doctor,” he stated. Harry only grinned a little.

“Well, yes and no,” he answered. “It’s sort of turned into a Dread Pirates Robert thing, you know, the name being passed on down the line.”

“Why are you telling me this?” the Master asked suspiciously, taking a sip of his punch. Harry waited until the Master swallowed it before giving the other Time Lord a sunny grin and saying simply, “The Doctor in the Converse drugged the punch.”

The Master froze, almost imperceptibly, and glared at Harry.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Harry waved the Master’s glare away, “it’ll mess with your memories a little, that’s all. Can’t have you remembering me before we meet, and all that.”

“I despise you already,” said the Master. Harry grinned.

“We’ll see. Anyway, I just wanted to say hello – and to make sure you drank the punch, of course. Cheerio.”

Harry winked at the scowling Master and went in search of Hermione.

So far, he thought happily, the party was off to a great start. He couldn’t wait to find out how the rest of it would go.

* * *

The last Doctor to arrive was, of course, the one for whom the loss of everything was still the most raw. Harry noticed him walk in, a young Rose Tyler and Jack Harkness beside him, and freeze, as he sensed the presence of other Time Lords. For a moment he wore an expression of deep pain before he covered it with a cheery grin and a bright comment to his companions. Harry winced in sympathy. Leather Jacket Doctor was still recovering from the end of the Time War, and being reminded of some of what he’d lost probably wasn’t the best idea. Then again, being reminded of the fact that Gallifrey wasn’t all that mattered in the universe might be good for him.

“So you’re telling us that some of the other guys in this room are you with a different face,” Jack said to Leather Jacket doubtfully, as Harry sidled over to Leather Jacket.

“That’s right,” said Leather Jacket, and looked straight at Harry, having noticed him sidling over even though Rose and Jack hadn’t. It was a little like being on the end of a laser beam, being caught in that stormy gaze. Harry instantly raised his hands in surrender.

“Just wanted to tell you, someone had the bright idea of bringing a few bottles of ginger beer,” Harry told him, with his best innocent look. Nine gave him a withering look.

“And who are you, exactly?” Leather Jacket asked bluntly, folding his arms. Rassilon, Harry had forgotten how _brooding_ this one was. Harry gave him a cheeky grin, which made Leather Jacket’s eyes narrow.

“Can’t say, unless you drink the punch,” Harry replied.

“Oh?” Leather Jacket’s eyebrows rose. “And why is that?”

“Take a guess,” Harry said, still smiling. “And don’t look at me, it was your idea.”

“Alright,” said Leather Jacket, “suppose I can see the wisdom in that. Assume I’m going to drink the punch. Who are you?”

“I’m the Doctor,” said Harry, smirking, unable to help himself. When Leather Jacket looked like he wanted to hit him, Harry added hastily, “Ever heard of the Dread Pirate Roberts?”

“You mean like in _The_ _Princess Bride?_ ” Rose asked, looking confused.

“Go on.” Leather Jacket looked arrested.

“It’s a little like that,” Harry said casually. “I should probably add, it’s nice to meet you in person, Grandad.”

“ _Grandad?_ ” Rose and Jack spluttered at the same time. Rose sounded shocked, but Jack’s exclamation held a note of hilarity.

Rose’s shock was nothing to Leather Jacket’s, however. Leather Jacket had gone white, and was staring at Harry like he’d never seen anything like him before.

“Grandad?” he repeated disbelievingly. Harry raised a finger to his lips, grinning.

“You can’t tell. As far as the rest of the universe knows – and as far as your other regenerations know – I’m the same man you are.”

“You’re my _grandson_.” Leather Jacket sounded dazed.

“Yep.” Harry stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Wait – go back a second,” said Jack, suddenly frowning. “You said it’s good to meet him. You’ve never meet him?”

Harry winced, caught by the awkward question.

“Ah. Well. I’m from quite a while into the future, you see. Centuries into it.”

“I’m dead in your time, aren’t I?” Leather Jacket asked softly. There was acceptance in his eyes, and, more alarmingly, a faint hint of wistful longing.

“None of that,” Harry scolded, glaring at him. “The universe needs you, you know. You don’t get to go until it’s done with you.”

“He’s _dead?_ ” said Rose, looking horrified.

“See, this is why you all need to drink the punch,” Harry complained. “Yes, of old age, so don’t look so aghast.”

This time it was Leather Jacket who looked surprised. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I know, who would have thought, the way you live,” he told Leather Jacket. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, you know.”

“I know,” said Leather Jacket, and added, “Thank you.”

“Anyway,” said Harry, “the punch is over that way, or the ginger beer’s next to it, if you feel like something a little harder–”

“Ginger beer’s harder?” asked Jack.

“–so have fun reconnecting,” Harry finished. “It’ll be good for you.”

Leather Jacket sent him an annoyed look.

“How old are you?” he demanded.

“Spoilers,” said Harry airily – the last thing he wanted was to be treated like a little kid, which was inevitable if the previous Doctor learned of his age. Harry was a bit over a century by now, which was still very young, by Time Lord standards. “If you’ll excuse me–”

“Hold on,” said Leather Jacket, putting his hands on Harry’s shoulders. Before Harry could stop him, the other Doctor leaned in and sniffed. Harry rolled his eyes to the ceiling. When Leather Jacket stepped back, his face was full of wonder.

“You smell like me,” he said, eyes shining with complex emotions.

“I told you I was your grandson, didn’t I?” Harry protested irritably. “Don’t go _smelling_ me in front of humans, they think it’s weird.”

“It did look a bit odd,” a new voice agreed, and Harry turned his head to see that Hermione had joined the small group. Jack gave her an appreciative once-over, and Harry bristled, glaring, knowing that the other man had no serious intentions. Fortunately, Hermione was unaffected by Jack’s movie-star smile.

“Hermione,” Harry said, smiling at her. “Are you ready to go?”

“We’re leaving already?” Hermione asked in surprise.

“Well,” Harry said conspirationally, “in about five minutes the Master’s going to unleash an evil robot, so…”

“Oh, _him_ ,” said Hermione disapprovingly. “And you don’t want to stay for that? That seems unlike you.”

“Nah, the others can handle it,” said Harry. “Besides, I’ve had enough of evil robots and the Master for a while.”

Leather Jacket was looking incredulous.

“The Master’s _alive_ in your time?” he asked.

“Chameleon Arch,” Harry explained succinctly. “Now if you’ll excuse me –”

“Yeah, alright.” Leather Jacket smiled at him. “Go on. We’ll deal with the Master. You know, it’s been a while since I faced an evil robot.”

Together Harry and Hermione left the hall. Behind them a sudden cacophony broke out, with screaming and the sound of lasers. Harry wasn’t concerned; he knew things turned out all right. They weren’t very strong lasers.

“So, Hermione,” Harry stepped a little closer to his friend, “have a good time?”

“I suppose so,” she replied. “You were right about some of them having had interesting adventures of their own.”

“Good,” said Harry, as they walked back to the TARDIS. “You know, I still feel like doing something. Let’s go meet someone famous.”

“As long as I can change into something more practical, first,” said Hermione. “How about Merlin?”

“No, that won’t work, he’s the Doctor, too,” said Harry. Hermione looked disbelieving, and Harry laughed. “It’s a long story…” he began, as he opened the TARDIS doors, and ushered Hermione inside.

 

 


End file.
